


A New Horizon [On Hold]

by Blackadder261



Series: Event Horizon [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: A New Mystery, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:44:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackadder261/pseuds/Blackadder261
Summary: The ordeal of the Bay is over, but Max and Chloe are far from safe. All around them are new mysteries, new surroundings and new trials to face. Can they face the odds once more and come out alive?[ON HOLD until I can come up with further plot ideas]





	1. Damage Control

_A blurry vision fogged into her head._

_A room. White, surgical. Lined with cabinets, furniture, what looked like photography equipment. A man, suit shirt, black trousers and Oxfords. Everything went black for a moment. As black turned to blur again, two more figures appeared. One packing a gun, the other in some kind of chair. An argument of some kind, it sounded as though the voices were through a fishbowl. A crack, ringing out. The figure standing on the other side of the room fell to the floor. And then- the fuck?_

_Another ringing crack. A splatter of red, and the head of the man standing over her... exploded. Red spattered across her sight and-_

Victoria's eyes sprung open as she jumped upward from where she lay. The white was replaced by a dingy- beige? who the fuck had this kinda taste? Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing sharp and short. Slowly, she came back down to a state that most would consider normal, taking in her surroundings. A lamp that looked like it was waiting on its call from the 70s. A- _corded_ \- phone that probably had received its call from the 70s. Curtains that looked like motel drapes... Wait.

Motel drapes.

She was in a motel. The other details started to make sense, as she pieced together where she was. Not a hotel, or a niche hostel or somewhere cosy like that. A. Fucking. Motel. Her brow furrowed as this new information sunk in. She couldn't remember a thing since the Vortex party. Beeping, from time to time, she'd figured she'd been in hospital for some time. Screeching of rubber on asphalt, and screaming. That... that didn't seem to fit in anywhere. Maybe she'd been in an accident of some kind? What the fuck had happened since the last time she'd actually been up and about? Where was she. More importantly, what the hell was she doing here, in this dive of a place? And- she looked down, realising she  _was_ actually dressed in something, wishing she hadn't- who would dress someone, or  _themselves_ , like this?

"You're awake, at last." Victoria almost popped out of her skin, and the- absolutely dreadful- clothes with it.

* * *

_Somewhere..._

_October 28th, 2013._

_Around 11 am_

The old truck continued to rattle away the miles as the pair- trio- went south. They'd tried to head South along Route 101, until they hit Pacific City. As it turned out, Arcadia Bay wasn't the only place to experience hell-in-a-teacup, although it was indisputably the worst-hit. The 101 was wrecked most of the way south of there, along with everything else, or so the Guard guys posted there had said. The Oregon state office had declared a state of emergency, or so the dude on the rock station had said. So, they'd backtracked along the Tillamook State park road, what was left of it, and were now working their way south. Along whatever open roads they could find. Max glanced across at Chloe, who seemed to be trying her best to tune everything out. All the thoughts, the flashbacks, the blackest memories... even her, to an extent. Not good. This drive was going to be painful as it was, with the mileage and the uncertainty of what would greet them in Cali. Chloe sealing herself off and going into a full-blown lockdown was the last thing Max needed.

"Chlo."

She jolted a little, before noticing a little rest stop by the roadside and pulling in. "C'mon, let's eat. I'm dying here." Max frowned, and after taking a look at their still-comatose passenger/luggage, followed Chloe across to the small roadside cafe. Thankfully for the pair, it looked nothing like a diner: as much as Joyce  _had_ survived what went down yesterday, and David with her, the sight of a diner would invoke too many memories embittered by the devastation. They found a quiet table at one end of the shop, and sat down in silence, each only speaking when the waiter came to take their orders. Which, evidently, were their usuals from... there. A litmus test, in effect, with the still-present imprint of the Whales' diner as their benchmark. Once they'd finished, they stayed there for a while. Max's frown became more pronounced as she stared into her bluenette's features. They told her so much and yet nothing.

_Have I done something? Has she? Damn, I hate having such shitty people skills._ Max tilted her head once more, as she figured her course of action.  _Welp, one thing for it. Head-on attack._

She extended a hand, to touch, stroke Chloe's cheek. Chloe slapped it away, not even looking at her. Max gasped a little at the surprise of her doing that, coupled with the added surprise of her  _actually doing that._ At least Chloe reacted somewhat, this time, albeit only by breaking from her trance to leave their bill and tip on the table, abruptly standing up and walking for the door. Max caught her up, and as her hand dropped back down from it, Max grabbed her by the wrist.

"Dude, the fuck are you-"

"Chloe. What. The fuck. Is going on?" Max hissed, cutting her off. Now, that seemed to have some effect. Chloe stood there for a moment, as the hamster clambered back onto its wheel in her head.

"Not here." With that, Chloe grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across toward the remains of the treeline. Once she was happy there were far enough away from prying eyes, the back-and-forth of heated words begun.

"Look, what in fucking hell is wrong with you, Max? Can't you tell?"

"Tell? Jeez, you might as well have been fucking screaming out in that cafe,  _'I'M FUCKING TEARING MY OWN MIND AND SOUL APART!'_ "

"What is it to you?"

Max scoffed. "What is it to me? Who the fuck do you think I am, the mailman?"

A scowl in return. Not the friendly, almost playful kind Max was used to. "No. The  _girlfriend_  who seems more interested in our passenger back there," Chloe fired back, gesturing at the truck, "Than yours truly. Got cold feet or something?"

"Wh-what? Are you fucking cereal, Chloe?! I'm only checking on her so damned much because I don't even know if she's going to live. And I'm worried about that because unless  _you_ are any good at getting rid of corpses, which I'd guess and hope you  _aren't_ , then her living is kinda important."

"How do I know that?"

Max growled, before unleashing an outcry of sheer frustration, her fists clenched hard enough to make her palms bleed a little. Her cry was met by the fluttering of wings, as every feathered creature in what sounded like two hundred yards' radius flew far from the brewing war. Max strode up to Chloe, grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her down until their faces were level. All the while, wincing with the pain of putting stress on her shoulder.

"How do you know that. Remember all those other timelines? I know you do, and you've said as goddamned much. Chloe Elizabeth Price, in case you forgot, everything you asked of me,  _everything_ , I did. Why would I do that? What incentive did I have to, I don't know, break into  _a fucking school_ , steal five G's, and  _then_ go for a fucking swim in a pool in the middle of a guarded institution? What rational brain would do that? No, Chloe, it wouldn't."

"But-"

Max's thumb and forefinger clamped down on Chloe's lips as Chloe yelped at the surprise and slight sting.

"I'm not finished. I had no reason, no  _rational fucking reason_ , to do any of those things. I chose to do them. I chose to spend that time, making those memories in that first timeline, with  _you._  That fucked-up alternate reality, where you asked me to kill you: I did that because I... looking at you like that, unable to do anything about it, it tore my fucking heart apart. You asked me to do it, and I did it. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because I wanted to do anything I fucking could to help you! Even if that meant..." Max's grip on Chloe loosened, as she backed off and turned away from the bluenette, who stood punch-drunk at the barrage. "Even if that meant having to let you go again. Not... because I wanted it. Because you said it was what had to be done. Okay?" Max slumped onto a broken tree, back to Chloe, her head falling into her hands.

Chloe's chest felt like it was in a vice.  _Fuck. I've gone and done it, haven't I? I've gone and fucking fucked this up, again._ Chloe sighed, staring upward at the clouds forming, tears beginning to fill her eyes. Walking softly up to where Max sat, broken, she collapsed onto the trunk to one side of Max, wrapping a solid arm around her and pulling her closer.

"Look, I'm...I'm sorry, okay? It's just, everything, it's playing hell with my head. I just needed to be alone in my mind, just to try and fix it myself."

"No, Chloe, you didn't. Been there, fucking tried that, got the near-suicide experience on a clifftop. Being alone with, with... this _shit_ , is worse than having your fucking insides melted bit by bit." Max softened up a little, running a hand down Chloe's back, feeling the bump of every piece of her back. Chloe dropped her head down, bringing it to rest against Max's, as she pulled off her beanie and dropped it on the trunk next to her.

"Okay...No more bottling?"

Max looked at her once again, each seeing the extent of the damage they'd done. Mutually Assured Destruction in human form. "No more. Good to have you back."

Chloe sniffed a little, the last statement driving a dagger into her. Not that Max had meant it to come off like that, but it was the truth. Chloe had, by being her usual "coping" self, caused this. Every last word and move of it. And she hated being that Chloe, not remembering any of how she'd been acting, and then being left to pick up the trail of obliteration she'd left.

Max straddled her, hugging her as well as having a semi-functioning arm would allow. Chloe joined the embrace, her emotional wall breaking apart altogether as a flood of tears unleashed itself, along with a torrent of apologies and self-criticism. Max, as always, brushed it aside. Chloe chuckled through her tears at Max's handling of this, her behaviour, everything. It was like Max could just bypass any emotional barrier she put up, as if-

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"You haven't been rewinding half of this shit, have you?"

Max rolled her eyes hard enough to scrape out her eye sockets, before jabbing Chloe in the ribs. "In case you forgot, you utter dipshit, If I rewind, you come back with me too, so no point trying it."

Chloe's tearful and amused caricature was replaced by that oh-so-familiar, inquisitive, look. "Yeah, about that..."

"If you're going to ask me how I think it works, stop right there. I don't even wanna think about what part of time got diddled to grant us that power."

The look deepened. "Then how'd you know it'd work in the barn?"

Max shrugged. "A hunch. Or a prayer. Hell, both. That said, fortune favours the ballsy, or something like that."

Chloe snickered, pulling Max closer. "All that tough-talk, and at heart you're still my gooey hipster. C'mere!"

Chloe grabbed hold of Max's jacket, attempting to take it off as the pair collapsed back onto the tree. Just before Chloe could get into her stride, Max held a hand up.

"What? Buzzkill." Max punched her in the arm.

"I'm hella game for what you're thinking, for once. But... not here. Firstly, I don't fancy the chance of any bugs or something getting..."

"Ew, Ew. Hella gross, but point taken."

"Second: we're still in  _crystal clear view_  of the damn cafe. I'm not sure I wanna make our relationship that public. Not yet." Chloe glanced up, and just as Max had put it, they were. Complete with a few patrons already fixated on the pair, looking equal parts intrigued and disturbed.

"Oh. Right, shit. Totally forgot that was there." Chloe's cheeks flushed with red. "Nice save. Motel, then?"

"Yeah, so long as it's not called something weird, like the Hotel California," Max replied, straightening herself back up, and pushing Chloe back up as best she could. "That would be creepy as fuck."

"Wait, did you- Dammit Max, getting all those hipster references in there." Chloe exclaimed softly, ruffling Max's hair.

"It's a  _Classic_ reference, dork. No taste in music..." Max corrected her, with a tut and a jab to the ribs as they stood up and headed for the truck. Destination: anywhere but here.

Once again, the miles ticked by. Chloe still seemed... withdrawn. Max frowned, equal parts concerned and irritated.

" _Chlo._ " Chloe jumped again, slightly.

"What? Oh, right, my bad. It's just I can't really, y'know, think of anything worth talking about. Can you?"

A smile appeared at the corner of Max's mouth as she thought of a reply. "Yeah. Our... luggage, here. Seeing as how you thought I had eyes for her, it figures I should ask you the same in return."

"WH-wha?" Chloe spluttered, swerving the truck slightly, "Dude, is this some kinda exercise to out me as a two-timer or something?"

Max chuckled. "Well, I did call and see if Jerry Springer could sit in on this, but he said he's busy all day. Something about marriage counselling with Bill Clinton, he said."

"What do you mean, he's- Oh. I see what you did there. Real slick, doofus. I shoulda seen that coming." Max cracked up with a howl of laughter.

"Damn straight. Come on, spill."

Chloe took in a breath between her teeth, debating her answer carefully.

_Even though she can't rewind and get the upper hand, I don't wanna say something stupid. But, hell, she isn't that bad. When she's knocked the hell out, that is._

"Okay, okay... she's not bad. Doesn't hold a candle up to you, but either way, not too bad. When she's not in Queen Bitch Mode, that is."

Max snorted. "Yeah, I guess. Smash or pass?"

" _What?_ "

"You heard me." Max's smirk was growing more evil by the moment. Chloe bounced a palm off her forehead, cursing silently for walking headlong into this mess.

"That... that's kinda tough to answer."

Max chuckled. "How so?"

Chloe glanced upward, as far as she could while watching the road. "Well, on the one hand, there's her personality, which'd be a freaking  _huge_  barrier."

"Yeah. And?"

"Um... then there's... you. I think that answering this question might not be good for my health."

Max cackled again. "An excellent deduction, Doctor Price."

"Doctor Price? really, that the best you can come up with?"

Max looked at her, taken aback a bit. "Well who the hell else hangs with Sherlock Caulfield, other than Doctor Price?"

Chloe groaned, shaking her head. "You are horrific, you know that?"

Max nodded. "Now, back onto the question: which is it?"

Chloe tapped her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, deliberating. "Would it be wrong of me to say smash?"

Max laughed once more, as Chloe winced. Damn, how she missed shy Max sometimes. This one knew  _every_ way of making her squirm. No fair. Then again,  _this_ Max was a gazillion times more confident in herself. So a more brash persona was hella worth that as a trade-off.

"Maybe. Maybe not. For the record, I'd have gone the same on that question."

"Whew," Chloe exclaimed, miming wiping her brow, "So that means I'm not at risk of waking up, and finding myself with half a haircut?"

The evil smile returned. "Depends on how the rest of the night goes."

A few miles on (not that anyone was counting  _how many_ ), with the sun growing ever-closer to the remnants of the treeline, a small motel came into view. Chloe grinned as Max's previous comment about motels rebounded off her mind.

"Well, it ain't a dark desert highway we're on, and there's no shimmering lights around here. Figure this one will do for now?"

Max squinted at the outside of the building as they pulled into the parking lot. "Looks like it teleported here from the 70s, but yeah. It'll do. You grab the bag, I'll grab our luggage here."

The reception clerk looked stunned at the sight of the three. One looking like she'd rob the place, the other looking like she'd been shot and the third looking like she'd zoned out on drugs or something.

"Might as well turn around now, ladies, we don't serve your kinda here."

Chloe scoffed. "What do you mean,  _our kind_? What do you think we are, some kinda drug dealers, or maybe career criminals?"

The clerk shrugged. "Both, actually." Chloe bit her tongue, making her best effort not to aggravate matters further.

"Look, we just need to find somewhere to stay the night."

"Well, you can head back toward the coast, Or south. Hell, even north, it doesn't bother me."

Max jumped in. "We've already come from the coast! Literally everywhere we've come through is either flattened, burning, or out of rooms!"

"Everywhere you've come through? It's only the north that..." The clerk paused, paling slightly. "You guys... you haven't came from Arcadia Bay, or Tillamook County by any chance, have you?"

Chloe and Max nodded, softly.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry about this, I'm just a little on edge, y'know. Here," he reneged, pulling a key off the wall, "take Room 4, just up the hallway. If I'd known-"

Chloe put a hand up, interrupting him. "Don't worry about it. Everyone has the right to suspect something. And let's face it, it's not every day you get someone us walking in in this state. And thanks."

The clerk nodded, colour returning to his cheeks a little, as the pair dragged their comatose charge into the room, dropping her down on one of the beds.

"Two bedrooms? Sweet!"

Max grinned. "Yeah. Give Vic one room, we take the other."

Chloe frowned. "Give her the room to herself, where's the point in- oh." Chloe stopped, seeing the major facepalm Max was going through. "Shit. And I say  _you're_ the hopeless lover." Closing the door behind themselves, in the (hopefully) unlikely event of Victoria waking up, they de-clothed each other, before finishing what Chloe had tried to start an hour or two earlier.

* * *

 

_Pleasant Dawn Motel_

_October 29th, 2013_

_9 am- ish_

Max and Chloe's morning waking-up of each other was interrupted by a cry from next door.

"Shit, sounds like sleeping beaut through there's finally awake."

Max nodded, scowling. "I thought  _I_ was your sleeping beauty."

Chloe's eyes widened. "No, no no, I didn't mean it like-" Max's expression changed. Chloe grunted with irritation, pushing Max onto the floor. "Dammit, you're getting good at walking me straight into these damned things."

That familiar chuckle came up from the floor. "I gotta have some defence against your minefield of dirty jokes and innuendos. Which, for the record, I seem to end up tap-dancing in. Every-frickin'-time."

Chloe sat up off the bed and slipped on some clothes, before grabbing one of Max's outstretched hands and dragging her off the floor. "Shall we check on her?"

"Totally." Max threw on a t-shirt and some shorts that were lying on the top of the duffel bag, before joining Chloe at the open door. In the next room, their pixie-haired companion was sat upright on the bed, scanning about the room.

"You're awake at last." Chloe stated, both her and Max snorting slightly with laughter as her response of jumping out of her skin. A pair of green eyes locked themselves on the doorway.

" _Kari. Price._ "

Max scoffed. " _Chloe. Price,_  actually. But, yeah, good morning to you too."

Victoria looked confused. Well, that was an understatement, she wore the expression you'd expect to see on someone who'd woken up aboard an alien spaceship.

"What the hell am I doing here? Did you two abduct me? I want to go home, now! I swear, I'll call the cops down on you so fast-"

"Look, Vic', home doesn't fucking exist any more, okay?" Max snapped, her face reddening a little.

"What?!"

Chloe snatched the remote up off the shelf, beating Max's hand to it. Max scowled at Chloe. " _Dude, I wanted to launch that fucking thing at her face!_ " she uttered, quietly and irritably.

Chloe shook her head, switching on the TV and flicking across the channels. Almost every single one had the same things on them,

_"Reports from north-west Oregon are still sketchy..."_

_"...Total devastation in and around Tillamook County..."_

_"...for survivors in Arcadia Bay are still ongoing-"_

Chloe shut the TV off after that last snippet, the remote dropping out of her hand. Max wrapped an arm around her waist.

"You...you cool?" she whispered in Chloe's ear.

"Y..yeah. It's just still, sinking in ,I guess." A glance across the room showed Victoria was as pale as Chloe had just been, before she flopped back onto the bed.

"Ah, shit. She flaked, Max."

Max shrugged. "I would too, given the information hosepipe she's just had rammed down her throat. Chloe chuckled a little.

"What's funny? Oh, that..." Max punched her in the stomach, softly. "See what I mean about tap-dancing in that minefield of jokes?"

"Uh-huh. Anyway... how the literal  _fuck_  are we gonna explain the past three weeks to her?" Chloe flopped down onto the window sill closest her. Max followed, tilting her head side to side, softly, trying to work out what to do. At last, she shrugged.

"Not a clue. You?"

"Me? Dude, if I'm gonna become the brains of this crazy-train, it's gonna derail  _so fast_."

Max nodded. "I know. Looks like we're following the words of one Saint McClane."

"Huh?"

"Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers! Max and Chloe are in town!"

Chloe scraped a palm down her face, groaning. "Oh, we are so screwed."

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. I was intending to start writing this sometime in June, but I got bored and decided that with the ideas in my head, now would be a good enough time to begin. This and the next chapter, maybe two, will serve as quasi-Q&As for the events of the previous story.
> 
> As for that joke regarding Jerry Springer... sorry, but I couldn't help it. Besides, a more sarcastic Max- whose personality has been influenced more heavily by Chloe than in the canon timeline- would probably come out with that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like what you're getting so far. It'll probably be a few weeks before I write the next chapter: I'm (meant to be) revising for my A-Levels and getting other stuff done and it's seriously booting me halfway into 1989. Welp.
> 
> B.


	2. Long Road South

_About ten minutes later..._

"Wow, she's really out. No, wait a second..." Max had been sat on the bedside next to Victoria, trying a few different ways of rousing her. Namely, slapping her across the face. With a soft groan and a little shifting of limbs, she came back round.

"Fuck... What the hell happened just then?" Victoria blinked a couple of times, squinting at the pair as she sat back up. "You never answered my question! How the hell did I get here and-" Chloe held up a hand.

"Before we go full Groundhog, Vicky, you should at least know that you flaked out before we had chance to explain that."

A pair of wider eyes greeted hers.

"What? You're lying! Why does my face hurt, if I was out?" She shot a glare at Max, who was avoiding her gaze. "Were you fucking slapping me?!"

Max's cheeks turned a shade of red. "Umm...I kinda-" Her sentence was cut short by a hand connecting with the side of her face.

"Ow! Bitch!" Max yelped, drawing an open hand back. Before the two could descend into a full-blown fight, Chloe jumped between them, absorbing a few hits from each before wrapping an arm around the neck of both Victoria and Max and knocking their heads together.

"Ow! Jeezus Chloe, easy!" Max cried out. Chloe chuckled a little.

"You two stop beating the shit out of each other, and I'll let you go."

"But she started it!" Victoria scowled at Max.

"And I'm finishing it." Chloe answered, returning the scowl. "Also, we can't go back to Arcadia Bay because there  _is_  no Arcadia Fucking Bay any more, Vic." Victoria paled again, though not quite as badly as Chloe. "'Scuse me a sec, Max." With that, Chloe sharply left the room.

"As I was saying, while you've been out, there was a hurricane. We came across an ambulance that hadn't gotten away in time, and found you inside it. That's why you're here now." Max elaborated.

Victoria scoffed and crossed her arms. "Great, so now I have to spend the next few weeks with Kari Price and the waif selfie hoe. Just perfect."

Max narrowed her gaze. "Better than being found by fuck-only-knows-who in the back of that ambulance, ain't it?"

Victoria pursed her lips, thinking of a suitable response. She sighed, defeated. "Fine. you've got me there, Selfie. What's with Kari, anyway?"

"It's  _Chloe_ , and she...she isn't taking any of this well. I found that much out yesterday."

Victoria huffed. "So much for being as tough as she tries to be." She shrieked at the glowing sensation spreading across the side of her face, lashing out and grasping Max's wrist as her hand passed. "The fuck was that for!?"

"In case you forgot, Arcadia Bay was Chloe's  _home_ , as much as she hated it. And mine. So try to have a little understanding of that, because it might make this damned nightmare a little more bearable for us all." Max shook her arm, breaking Victoria's grasp, before heading for the bathroom. She stopped short of the door, her stomach turning slightly at the sound of Chloe retching. Steeling herself against it, she went inside, to find Chloe leaning over the bowl.

"Chlo, speak to me." She sat up, coughing between breaths, as she sat back against the wall. Max sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pressing her cheek against Chloe's.

"I...I'm sorry, Max. I'm fucking up again, aren't I?"

Max hugged her tighter before releasing for a moment. "Definitely not. I'm surprised  _I'm_ able to function with everything flying around. I don't think any less of you for having to let things out from time to time, okay?" Max felt the movement of Chloe's head, nodding softly. All at once, the peace was shattered by a slight chuckle from the door.

"How did I not figure this one out? Kari Price and Max the Hipster, together? Oh, this is pricele-" Her sentence was cut off midway, as Chloe sprung off the floor and lunged at Victoria, only to be caught mid-leap by Max, gritting her teeth as her shoulder jarred again.

"Lemme go, I wanna punch that smug fucking face of hers in!" Max tightened her grip as best she could around Chloe's waist, barely able to hold her back.

"Chloe, bad idea!" Max pulled harder, bringing Chloe back onto the floor next to her

"Why? Just one punch? Please? Pretty please?"

Max shook her head. "No. I've already done that for ya."

Chloe slumped slightly in Max's grip. "For fucksake. Why can't you let me have the fun?"

"Because I'd rather not have to go drop her off at another hospital. I know you too well to let you have your way." Victoria rolled her eyes and strolled back into the other room. Once she was out of earshot, Max leaned over to Chloe.

"When are we gonna tell her?" Max whispered.

"Tell her... what, exactly?"

Max frowned. "That we're  _kinda_ responsible for everything leading up to that ambulance."

Chloe grimaced. "Yeah, I forgot about that as well, kinda. I don't know. Not for now, though. She'd run a fucking mile if we told her that  _now._ "

Max concurred. "Fair. However, I don't know whether this secret's ours to keep. C'mon, there's still hella shit to explain to her."

Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes. "Dude, you somehow manage to  _ruin_ that word. You know how hard that is to do?" She chuckled, as Max punched her in the shoulder.

Chloe sat on the window sill across from Victoria, as Max grabbed a chair that was by the table and dragged it over to where Victoria had elected to sit again. Chloe had made an effort to clean herself up a little, but nonetheless she looked rough.

"So, how much can you and can't you remember?"

Victoria tilted her head, searching for a memory of some kind. "Nothing much after the Vortex party, I guess. Bits and piece, like being in some kind of room, and some guy shooting somebody else." Victoria didn't quite notice Chloe's hand rubbing the shoulder that, two weeks or so earlier, had taken a bullet. Behind her lips, Chloe's teeth clamped together as she tried to get Jefferson's words out of her head. Trying to forget that sick fucker had broken into her house, and had been so close that he had gotten a first-class eavesdrop on what had been the single best moment Chloe had had since getting Max back.

"Okay, we'll start just after that. Jefferson... he abducted you when you reported Nathan. Right place, right activities, just the wrong guy. He drugged you and took you to that room you remember seeing. The feds called it the Dark Room, which is a creepy name for anything. Anyway, what he didn't know is that we were lying in wait."

Victoria's eyes widened. "Wait, that was  _you two_? But... But I saw one of them get..." Her sentence trailed off as she noticed Chloe caressing her shoulder, her gaze down toward the floor. "Holy shit. You got shot by him, didn't you?"

Chloe glanced up slightly. "Excellent observation, Sherlock."

"Anyway," Max continued, "I'd passed out for a moment. Shock, or something. Jefferson didn't see me when he came through the door with you under his arm." Victoria shuddered a little. "So, I did what had to be done. Justice had to be delivered. For what he'd done to you. For what he'd done to you, and a dozen girls just like us." Max made sure not to go anywhere  _near_ mentioning her apparent ability to rewind and halt time.

_That_ _might be a mite more than her head can take, just right now. Or ever,_ Max mused.

"W...wait. You were the one who took the shot?"

"I had no choice, Vic. If I hadn't, He'd have killed Chloe. And me. And then you." Victoria's expression went from wide-eyed to pretty much doe-eyed.

"I...I had no idea. I'm sorry."

Max shrugged. "Save it. As you might've guessed, that wasn't quite the end of your ordeal. Turns out, he'd gotten careless and overdosed you, just like-" Max cursed, realising her mistake. "Ignore that, other-timeline memories screwing with my head." With that, Max rewound.

"Turns out, he'd gotten careless and overdosed you. Thankfully, not enough to kill you outright. However, you were out, as a guess, until a couple of days ago."

Victoria nodded. "I...I can remember hearing beeping. I must've started to come around in the hospital."

"Hear any sirens?"

Victoria looked confused. "Other than ambulance sirens? No, none." Max nodded.

"So, you probably woke up sometime in the past week and before yesterday. Good stuff."

Victoria's expression twisted suddenly, from confused, to a furrowed brow, to one of anger. "I wanna get my fucking hands on Nathan fucking Prescott so bad right now. Make him pay for all of-" Max held up a hand and cut her off.

"About that. Nathan wasn't seen after June because..." A tear emerged at the corner of Max's eye.

_This is gonna fucking tear her apart. It tore me apart. It even tore Chloe apart, for Dog's_  sake. Max hesitated. _But, she needs to know the truth. Or at the least, as much of the truth as we can safely give her for now._

"...Because Jefferprick had him captive. In that fucking hellhole. Poor sonofabitch has- had- been in the Med Centre's basket case ward ever since." Chloe finished off Max's sentence. "From what we picked up, Nathan's head was royally fucked up. Sean didn't help matters. Tried to keep it covered up, all the while Nathan was under Jefferson's thumb. He didn't know that he was being used. And after Rachel...died..." Chloe took a moment to force down the mixture of emotions that tried to erupt out of her. " Jefferson abducted Nathan. Punished him for  _'failing'_ him, by letting Rachel be murdered. He spent six fucking months in a place I wouldn't wanna spend another six seconds."

Victoria's head dropped into her hands. "I...I don't know what I'm meant to make of all this." Her fingers cracked, as she looked out from behind her hands. "Where is he now?"

Both Max and Chloe shrugged. "Best guess is that he was evacuated, with all the other patients. It's hard to tell, though, and we didn't come that way through the Bay. There's always hope, I guess."

Victoria nodded, her eyes slightly damp. Chloe got up from her perch on the window sill. "I'll go settle up with the guy out front. You two, try and make sure we pack everything back up."

Victoria squinted at her. "Hang on. Where are we, and where are we going?"

Chloe shrugged. "Somewhere east of the Bay. We're heading for Cali, but most of the coastal roads down past Pacific have apparently been diddled by the hurricane. Once we get there... you can stay or go. I really don't care which right now."

Victoria pursed her lips, as Chloe closed the door behind her.

_I can't think of anything worse than spending time with these two, of all the people in the world._  Her brow furrowed, as she weighed up the options.  _One: Sneak out from here; Two, wait until we reach Cali and then run away; Three, stay with them._  She shook her head.

_I can't decide. Not yet. Maybe we'll all grow to like each other? Or, maybe I'll get murdered and thrown in a ditch by them. Oh well._

Her reflection was interrupted by the duffel bag landing on her lap. "The hell?!" She glanced up to see Max with a similar looking bag over her shoulder.

"C'mon, V. We're going."

Victoria groaned, slipping the duffel over her shoulder. "V. That the best you've got?"

Max smiled. "It's either, that, Queen Bee-atch or Vicky C. Take your pick."

An incensed scowl was all the reply Max needed. With that, the pair left the room and joined Chloe outside.

"So, how hard did it hit us, Chlo?"

Chloe smiled. "Zip. Guy decided to be charitable, seeing as how we've come in from the apocalypse." Max noticed a slight grimace being suppressed by her as she scrambled into the truck, followed by Max and Victoria.

"Damn, Chloe, three's really a crowd in here."

Another smirk. "Should keep you from getting any ideas. Either of you."

_About an hour later_

_Somewhere on Route 47_

Victoria had found her company insufferable. So far as to wish she was still out for the count, at that. If it wasn't that they lacked any sense of style between them, it was the jokes. If it wasn't the jokes, it was the abhorrent music blasting from Chloe's stereo. As best she could tell, they'd gotten down to McMinnville. At a guess, Victoria had figured, they were heading for the I-5. From there, they'd probably be headed down to Medford, and stay the night there.

Apparently not, it seemed. Chloe swung the truck west, stopping at the Baskett Refuge. She hopped out of the truck.

"Break-time, I think. Stretch your legs, go use the bathroom, whatever. I'll be here when you're ready."

Max stayed by Chloe's side, as Victoria wandered off toward the restrooms at the other side of the lot.

"You're feeling okay, right, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded, sullenly. "I guess. I'm just tripping over the past couple weeks, that's all. It's just, so unreal and yet it happened."

"Now you know how I felt. Not to belittle, or anything."

Chloe cracked a smile, fishing out a battered cigarette packet and flicking its lid open.

"Dammit."

Max chuckled, softly. "Outta cigs?"

"Uh-huh," Chloe growled, crumpling the packet and dropping it at her feet. "And I was gonna need every gram of that I could get to cope with the Alpha Bitch, wherever she went." Chloe looked up from where the packet lay, her expression that which Max knew too well. "About that. Her, or whatever we're referring to Vic as now."

"Yeah?"

"Why  _did_ we take her outta that ambulance, anyway? I mean, surely the relief crews woulda found her, but instead we're now stuck with her annoying ass. Why'd you snatch her outta there?"

Max opened her mouth to reply, before Chloe cut her off. "And don't bullshit me about 'safest option' this and 'might not have survived' that. You know I can see right through you on those."

Max didn't even have to think that hard about her reply. "Same reason you didn't object to me taking her out of there, I figure."

Chloe's eyes widened a little. "What?"

"The reason I fished her out of that wreck is the same reason you didn't just tell me to leave her there. It's  _our_ fault she wound up there anyway, because  _we_  fucked around with time. We could've popped Jefferfuck at any given point, hell, even on the way out of Blackwell if we'd liked. But we  _chose_ to use her as bait, and nailed him in the Dark Room. So, I figure we both chose what we did back there because we both feel we owe her that much."

Chloe sighed, looking around a little. "You got me there." Chloe's pocket buzzed, making the pair of them jump.

"Shitballs, I forgot I had this thing still."

Max gave her a sarcastic glare. "What  _thing_  are we talking about, exactly?"

Chloe drew her phone from her pocket, flipping Max the bird and punching her with her free hand.

"Hello?"

Chloe felt a chill shoot through her, as she recognised the voices on the other end of the line.

"Mom? Whoa, whoa, waitasec, I'll put this on speaker."

Chloe dropped the phone onto the bonnet of the truck.

"Chloe? Where are you? Is Max with you?" The voice wasn't Joyce's this time, but another equally concerned woman.

"Yeah, I'm here, mom!"

An audible sigh from the other end of the line.

"Thank god you're both okay! Where are you two, and how come you haven't answered any of my calls?"

Max stood for a moment, mouth open, trying to figure out what to say. "We're... headed South, mom. No, we haven't fallen out or anything crazy, it's just me and Chloe fancied a little change of scenery, and yes, I swear we'll come up soon. Oh, and the phone? Yeah, it died. Sorry."

Max caught sight of what Chloe was doing by this point. Mouthing something to her, silently.

_And almost you with it, hippie._

Max scowled and flipped her off in return, as Joyce's voice returned to the speaker.

"Chloe, are you still there?"

"Um... yeah, I guess."

"How are you two anyway? Are you hurt at all?"

Chloe hesitated for a second, pointing at her shoulder and then at Max. Max replied by drawing a finger across her throat a few times, frantically, while mouthing something back. Something which looked like  _'Don't you fucking think about it.'_

"Um... no, no, we got off okay." A figure appeared at the edge of the lot. Chloe cursed.

"You sure you're okay, Chloe?"

"Um.. yeah, we're fine, seriously. Look, We gotta go. Need to find somewhere to stay, so we don't have to sleep in the truck. I'll call later. Love you."

With that, Chloe thumbed the button and cut the call, just as Victoria got within earshot. She cleared her throat, as though to make her presence obvious. If it wasn't already.

"So, are we going, or are we standing in front of this rusted heap of junk for the day?"

Chloe shrugged. "After you, then. Queen." Max grinned as discreetly as she could, as Victoria scowled at her and started toward the nearest door of the truck, only to fall face first onto the floor with a yelp.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

Chloe smiled, innocently. "Nobody insults my truck. Even Max knows better than that, and she walks into almost  _every_ dirty joke I can make." Another seething look from Victoria as she stood up and dusted herself off. Chloe held her hands up, in her usual defensive way.

"Alright, sorry. You just looked like you needed a wake-up."

Victoria stormed past her, slipped into the truck and slammed the door, crossing her arms and boring a furious glare into the pair. Max leaned over to Chloe. "Like a brat. C'mon, the south beckons." she whispered, as Chloe started grinning suddenly. "What's so funny?"

Chloe couldn't contain her chuckling any longer. "The south... as in Cali south, or redneck South? You know you'd fit in well there. And miss Fashionista."

"I can still hear you in here, you asshole!"

Max jabbed her hand into Chloe's ribs again, joining in with the laughter as she hopped back into her side of the truck.

_Downtown Medford_

_Later that evening..._

Victoria found herself alone in the room, while Max and Chloe had gone to  _"get some stuff done"_.  _For getting stuff done_ , Victoria thought,  _read: make out as semi-closeted lesbians._  A smile crept onto her face, and she shook it off as she realised.

_What? How come I'm finding that funny? Any of this, even. It's not funny that I'm stuck with them for now. Or any of this. What the fuck do I do now, stay with them... forever?_

Victoria slumped onto the sofa, grabbing at a glass bottle Chloe had left on the table. A sniff, and Victoria's nose wrinkled.  _Of course it'd be liquor instead of something decent. Oh well._  She put the bottle to her lips and tipped in back, the dark liquid spilling down her throat. She spluttered and stopped herself retching, as it burned all the way down.

_God, how does she drink this stuff? Oh, that's why. God, I feel numb._ She tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling.  _Maybe we're more alike than I thought. Why else would she drink something that blots out the pain, and everything besides?_ Her thoughts turned to the Bay. She'd flicked through a few of the news channels: even international stations wouldn't shut up about it. That told her enough.

_They said Nathan might be alive, somewhere. I hope so._ She sighed.  _I'm starting to see why Kari- Chloe, or whatever her name actually is- reacted like she did earlier. This whole thing's insane. The fact I've got to be around them for now is insane, too, so I guess that'll be something to_ _keep my mind on. I'm alone, though. Nobody who I actually seriously get along with. I like Max, I guess... but would she let me in after everything that's gone on? Would Chloe?_

Her brow furrowed again.

_I don't even think anyone knows I'm alive, except them. Not even my parents know I'm alive , and even if they did, they're in Seattle and I'm practically in fucking anyone miss me any more?_

A slight click and squeak behind her brought her out of the depths of her mind.

"Ah, you're back, huh? Managed to  _get stuff done_ , or is it still on the to-do list?" Victoria mumbled at the pair stumbling through the door wiping the laughter and smiles off of their faces.

"What do you mean by that, Vic?"

A smug smile appeared on her face. "Oh, I think you know  _what_ _I mean_." Victoria said, her voice layered with her usual snark.

Chloe looked as though she was about to blow a fuse, before glancing at the table next to Victoria. "Ah, I see you found the alcohol. Can't remember whether or not we put any laxatives in it, though." Victoria's eyes widened, as Max- conveniently concealed behind Chloe- quietly chuckled at the bluff. The pair staggered towards their bedroom for the night.

"Night, Victoria. Hope you stay near the bathroom." Max said, winking as she closed the door behind her. Victoria took a sniff of the bottle, her face turned from shock to fury as she discovered their ruse.

_The fucking bastards tricked me! I'll fucking kill them for giving me a heart attack like that!_  A sly smile appeared on her face as she rubbed her hands together like the Grinch.

_Now, what to do?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this story seens to be almost rambling or not moving forward quickly. I'm kind of experimenting as I go with making the details in between more crucial sections a little better described. Also, I'm probably going to do a few more inward-reflection sequences for Max, Chloe and Victoria, as their coping following the previous story one of the key plot arcs of this story.This bring me onto an important announcement: I could use a Beta Reader, if anyone is willing. Drop in a Private Message and I'll provide more story-centric info. (Beta mainly applies to FF.Net readers unless such a feature exists here)
> 
> Main part of this Beta opening is helping to ensure that for now, Victoria's character is kept close to canon, although I intend it to diverge.Next chapter ETA: Mid to Late June. I have A-Level final exams, a course and countless other things landing in the next six weeks. Eek.  
> Until then,  
> B.


	3. Lifestyles of the Rich(er) and Famous

_30th October, 2013_

_Downtown Medford_

Chloe's semi-dream thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an alarm. Her brain had tuned in just enough to recognise it as... the Dixie Chicks.

_What... the actual... fu-_ before she had chance to complete the thought, what felt like half a bucket of water crashed down onto the side of her head. She shrieked, jumping and falling out of the bed with a crash, and accidentally dragging Max off too, creating a tangled mess of hair and limbs. She glanced up as her eyes un-fuzzed to see Victoria standing with a smug grin, and an empty cup of water.

"Morning, sleepyheads!"

Chloe's mind screamed at her to get up and start choking the life out of her. Her body, on the other hand, wasn't so keen. After all, it felt early. But how early, at that?

"What fucking time is it, asshole?" she groaned, tipping her head back.

The smug grin grew wider. "About... 6 am, give or take. Now, c'mon, we got places to go."

" _What?_  Six in the fucking morning? Do you not frickin' sleep or something?" Victoria chuckled.

"I do. It's just super fun to get up early and revenge-prank people. Now c'mon, I'm serious. We should try and get going by seven, unless you fancy being stuck in tailbacks all day." With that, she turned on her heel and strolled lazily out of the room. Chloe noted that she seemed to be fully-dressed too.  _Shame..._

"Don't tell me you're eyeing her up  _too,_ now, Chloe. Or else I might just have to kidnap Jerry Springer." Max giggled, letting out a soft 'ow' when Chloe elbowed her in the stomach. Slowly, the pair untangled themselves from the bedsheet and each other and found where their clothes were in the room. Or, more accurately, searching the room, only to find their clothes in the bathtub, with a bucket rigged up to what almost looked like an intricate, Saw-like booby trap above them. And a note.

_Like I said, revenge pranks are fun 3:)_

_Vicky C, Queen Bee-atch, or whatthefuckever it is you're calling me now._

Chloe crumpled the note with an enraged growl. "I so wanna crush her skull with something, you know that?" Max simply shrugged.

"Well, I guess it's what we get for screwing about with her last night. The emoji was a little overkill on cruelty, though."

Victoria sat on the couch, snacking on a few things she'd bought from the vending machine down the hall, grinning all the while as she listened to her companions (or was it tormentors?) trying to prevent their clothes from getting a dousing.

_"No, gently...easy...No NO NO!"_

A splash followed by enough cursing to make a sailor blush was all the confirmation Victoria needed, as she chuckled, trying not to be heard as the curses subsided.

_"Ah, fuck it. Wet clothes it is. I swear I wanna kill her right now. What? Nobody would notice, would they? Ow!"_

_Maybe they're right,_ Victoria thought.  _I don't even know who's listed as dead or missing or anything. Surely it can't hurt to-_

"You better not have any more tricks like that planned, asshat." One  _highly_  pissed-off Chloe stood with one hand propping her off the doorframe to the bathroom, her clothes dripping with water. An almost equally irritated Max stood beside her although behind the outer facade or rage, Victoria swore she could see a spark of amusement.

_Perhaps making friends with Max, at least, is a possibility. Maybe._

"I take it you two are already packed? Or would you like to wait and dry off, first?" A smile sat unshakably on the corner of her mouth. Chloe was still seething and itching to smack the look off her face, but an hand on her arm reminded her otherwise.

"Relax, Chloe. It's not the first time we've been this wet, remember?"

Chloe looked at her with a confused look. "What are you talking about, being this wet? You dragged me into the shower, rememb... oh." The confusion replaced itself with a pair of daggered eyes. "That."

Max flicked her eyebrows and grinned. " _Yeah_ ,  _that._ "

Chloe accidentally-on-purpose stamped on Max's foot as she hoisted her stuff over her shoulder and made for the door, chuckling and leaving Max hopping and cursing behind her.

"See you suckers in the truck."

Max stopped hopping about, tenderly placing her foot back on the floor. "Shit, I forgot how hard she could do that." Victoria smiled.

"What?" Max stared at her, interrogatively. Victoria averted her gaze for a moment, tapping on the top of her leg with one set of fingers.

"Oh, nothing. Just your girlfriend getting her own back. It's funny, I'd never figured you were that way inclined."

Max was taken aback. "How the- How long have you known for?"

Victoria's face lit up. "So you  _are_ girlfriends! Damn, I woulda had a field day with that if I'd known back at Blackwell."

"Dammit Victoria, can't you just do nice mode for once instead of being an asshole all the time?" Max stormed toward the door, dragging her duffel bag behind her and slamming the door behind her. Victoria blinked with surprise, partly at Max's reaction to her questions but mainly as she realised how hard her heart was pounding all of a sudden.

_The hell? No way this is the same Maxine Caulfield that I dealt with last time. She was so fucking shy, evasive, scared of everything and everyone. What's gotten into her?_

A faint smile appeared on her lips as a possible answer made itself known.

_Price. Of course that'd make sense, they've been dating since who-knows-when._

"Yo! Vic! Get your skinny ass out here, we're going!"

Victoria was startled for a moment. "Uh..right, okay, I'll be right there." Immediately, she clamped a hand across her mouth.

_Never mind them, the fuck's happening to_ me _? A few weeks ago, I'd have bitch-slapped them into next week, but now... Gah, this is gonna take getting used to._

As Victoria staggered outside, a truck screeched to a halt inches from her, blaring a horn. She shrieked, jumping and falling in the opposite direction and dropping her bag. She stood up slowly, dazed, as she dusted herself off. A cacophony of laughter was coming from the cab, as she levelled her eyes at its occupants.

"Oh, you shoulda seen yourself Vicky! Oh, that was so worth it!" Max howled, clutching her abdomen as she rocked back and forth in laughing fits. Victoria shot daggers at the pair of them, before storming to the passenger door and throwing herself inside, slamming it back against its frame.

"Hey, leave the damn door on the damn frame, already. I don't want another repair bill right now."

Victoria stared at Chloe with a nonchalant smile. "In case nobody told you this already, your truck belongs in a scrapyard. That shitty door's the least of its worries. Let's go already, dweebs."

Chloe scowled and flipped her a bird as she threw the truck into drive and careened in the direction of the state line.

_California State Line_

_8.40 am_

_"And did you know if you were caught and you were smokin' crack_

_McDonalds wouldn't even want to take you back_

_You could always just run for mayor of D.C..."_

The battered and jury rigged stereo continued to blast out another classy punk anthem, as Victoria scowled at Max and Chloe singing to the chorus.

"Why the hell are we listening to this shit, blue rinse?" Victoria questioned.

Chloe leaned over and punched her in the sude of the arm, eliciting a cry of pain and a "What the fuck" from her.

"Two things,  _your majesty_ :" Chloe begun, mimicing a royal wave with one hand, "one, you call me blue rinse again and I  _will_  duct tape your mouth shut and leave you tied up in the back of this truck-"

"Ooh, kinky much, Chlo?" Max interrupted, winking sarcastically. Chloe slapped her bad shoulder and continued.

"Two, listen to the damn lyrics. It's actually a pretty relevant song on my 'Fuck You Cali' playlist. That and 'Californication'." Chloe bounced a hand off her forehead. "Doesn't take a straight-A student to figure it out."

Victoria squinted at her. "How the fuck does that song even... oh. Very funny, blue."

Chloe shot an incensed stare back at her, before pulling the truck over. "You really frickin' want me to tie you up like a piece of roadkill?"

Victoria looked stunned at that statement. "Er, no thank you. What's the plan, anyway? Or are you acting first, and  _then_ planning your actions? Just so I know whether I'm bailing back to Seattle at the next town."

"Duh: find somewhere to crash. Long-term, maybe find a college for you two nerds to finish your courses at, and then  _maybe_ , just  _maybe_ , have something resembling a normal life here. Kappische?"

"Uh, guys," Max cut in, "Blackwell already awarded everyone A's. Y'know, giant freaking hurricane destroying the town and all."

"Huh. Guess I shoulda stayed in school." Chloe continued. "In which case, find somewhere to live, I find myself a damn job of some kind and you two... I'unno, whatever you're thinking of doing. Jobs as photographers?"

Victoria shrugged. "I suppose it'll have to do. How do you plan on affording anywhere here anyway?"

Chloe shot a knowing look at Max, who picked up its meaning after a few seconds with a shocked expression.

"No. Chloe, no! I'd rather try robbing a bank than that! Are we even legally old enough for that?"

"Uh-huh."

"And I don't even know if  _that_  will work!"

Chloe shrugged. "Got a shotgun, hippie?"

After a few moments of frantic thought, Max huffed and threw up her hands. "Fine. Casino it is. Lead the way, Captain Chaos."

" _Bluebeard,_  you mean. Grr."

"Oooh, Maxine the wallflower finally grew a personality, did she?"

Max shot her daggers, for what felt like the tenth time in the hour. "Fuck off, Icky."

_Rain Rock Casino_

_9.20 am_

Max staggered out of the truck, stretching her legs, closely followed by her companions. Chloe's driving, as always, had left a lot to be desired. Assuming most of her driving had been legal manoeuvres, of course. Chloe had been so fixated on a Liquor Barn that they'd passed- aiming to "resupply", as she'd put it- that they'd almost ran into a police cruiser. Naturally, they'd been pulled over and Chloe had been breathalysed.

_"Dude- Officer, even- seriously, I'm sober! I just got a little... sidetracked, that's all!"_

_"You realise that's careless driving, and still a violation of California taffic code, ma'am?"_

_"Ugh... alright, how much is the fine?"_

Both Max and Victoria had sat with smug looks plastered across their faces for the couple of minutes of sheepish driving from Chloe as they pulled into the lot.

"Not a word, Max. Not. A fucking. Word."

Max giggled, taking a pace out of Chloe's striking range. "Whatever you say, DUI." Even Victoria chuckled a little at that.

"You two are so cute, you know that? A cliche and a punk. Who'd have thought irony makes the best couples?"

The glares sent back her way shut that line of thought down. Fast.

"Maxi, you ready?"

Max shrugged. "As I'll ever be, I suppose. Let's go."

First stop was the roulette. Max stood and observed the first round. The ball tore around the wheel, before finally settling on 9 Red.

"Got that, Max?"

"Yeah. Let's try this." Max took a deep breath, before the next round begun, and raised her hand, feeling the almost indescribable strain on her arm and head as time slowed, stopped, and begun to run backwards. The ball rattled around its track, again, and again.

9 Red.

Chloe turned to Max, eyes eager. "Did it work?"

Max stayed silent for a moment, weighing up the odds of it working again in her head.

"Think so."

Max took Chloe's hand, and pulled them both back through time. Chloe gasped for air for a moment, as Max released her grip on time.

"Shit, dude, that fucking gets me every time when you do that." Max gave her a condescending glare.

"We've only done that twice. Dork. Straight bet, 9 Red."

Chloe's eyes widened. "If you say so, Doctor Caulfield. 9 Red it is."

Chloe put the chits on the table.

"Better be right, Max. That's five-hundred dollar's we're about to gamble, and I've been in your math class."

Max held a hand up, cutting Victoria off.

"No more bets, please."

The wheel spun up, and the ball was launched.

Around once. Twice. Slowing. It clipped the edge of a pocket ring, rebounding slightly. Bounced again. Landed squarely.

9 Red.

"Booyah! Let's go agai-" Max grabbed Chloe's arm as she scooped up the winnings.

"No. Some other time, maybe."

"What's the matter, Max, scared to take some risks?"

Max shook her head at both of them, checking nobody was close enough to hear. "No. But I'd rather not get them curious. Curious casino guards and staff tend to end in lost winnings. Besides, seventeen gee's should be enough for now. Let's cash in and burn out."

"Buzzkill. Fine, you cash it in, Max, and I'll bring the truck round."

Max met her outside, with Victoria already sat in the cab. Max flung herself into the cab.

"Uh, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Where... where's the cash?"

Max smiled. "That'd be a dumb move. No, I just had them wire it to your bank account. Except for a grand, got that right here." Max explained, pulling her jacket open to reveal a small envelope, with the edges of fifty-dollar bills poking out of it. "Let's face it, losing one grand if we get mugged is better than losing everything."

Victoria tilted her head. "The waif has a point. Now, let's get moving." She waved an ad in front of Chloe.

"How's this sound? apartment in Sacramento. It's literally right around the corner from River College. And it's only a grand a month!"

"Great. Bedrooms?"

"Two. Thankfully, I won't have to put up with your  _passe_ efforts at a relationship of a night."

Chloe scowled at her, suddenly lighting up with a grin. "And us yours. Sacramento it is."

The journey down to Sacramento was about as eventful as Max had expected. A four-hour journey became six, one pulling-over by the cops became five. Situations not helped by Chloe bluntly crying to one officer that she was desperate for the bathroom. Eventually, they'd reached the apartment, so there was that consolation.

"Next time, I'm driving, Chloe."

Chloe laughed at Max. "After last time? Are you hell. C'mon, let's make ourselves at home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter. I just felt it didn't make sense to stretch the event of this chapter out any further, and it's been too long for my liking since I put a new chapter up. Admittedly, that's going to worsen considerably over the next five weeks as I hit my exams. However, the next chapter should start to see a few changes. Especially in the dynamics surrounding everyone, and the primary plot arc should be coming out to play a little in the next two chapters or so.
> 
> I was going to have a subplot of Max and Victoria at River College, but I've decided against it. Primarily because it really felt like it'd detract from the key plots that are to be revealed.
> 
> Canon divergence from Victoria's character from this point onward. Just as a heads-up.
> 
> Also, I've still no idea how long this story will be. It'll really depend on how much time I can find to commit to it. And don't expect chapter titles to always be meaningful or relevant, it's just that I'll name a chapter either after a piece of music featured within it OR I'll try and think of something. Just sayin'.


	4. Exit Light, Enter Night

Chloe's ears picked up on a sound in her sleep, sluggishly stirring her into life. Like footsteps, muffled by something. Water? She grunted, as she shifted herself around in her new surroundings. A dim red light permeated the room, the smell of damp obvious as ever. She could barely see more than a couple of feet, the rest of the room still being a black blur. She tried shifting again, to find that she wasn't moving at all. A glance down, and it became obvious. A dull reflection of light off of a metal buckle, one each around her wrists. A grunted heave with her legs found they were in about the same state, and not even the chair itself seemed to move. She frowned to herself and shrugged. "Well, this makes no fucking sense at all."

"Quite right."

Not any voice, that one. The light had become brighter, lighting every dark corner of the room. Her head flicked madly around, taking in her surroundings. The bedroom in L.A. had been replaced by- "No. No fucking way!" Chloe shrieked, writhing to break free. The straps binding her looked soaked through, and smelt of rust. Oh, wait: rust. So, less likely water and more likely blood. Fucking hygiene much? A figure half-stepped, half-trudged through the water off to her right. The room looked about the same as she and Max had left it. The water was a little deeper, and the red hue of emergency lighting had been surpassed by a dim yellow. The water looked darker in colour than she remembered, more opaque, murkier.

The face attached to the voice was familiar enough, as much as Chloe despised it. Jefferson levelled the glasses on his face as he stood in front of her and leaned in, bringing his face in line with hers, only a couple of inches away at that. Close enough to reveal the dark red hole an inch over from the bridge of his nose, where her bullet had stamped out his flame only three weeks earlier. The blood still seemed fresh, dripping down his face as he cleared his throat, red specks coming away on the back of his hand. "Nice to see you're no less feisty than last time. How is Max, anyway? Haven't seen her in what feels like an eternity." Chloe spat in his face in return. "Fuck you and burn in hell, asshole."

Jefferson chuckled, standing up and moving just outside of what he figured would be Chloe's maximum range. "Now now, there's no need to be uncivilised." He spoke in a flat, calm tone, which infuriated and terrified Chloe all at once. "Oh, but there is, you sick fuck! You're DEAD, remember? D-E-A-fucking D! WE! WON! Get it?"

"Did you?" Another familiar voice made Chloe's blood run cold, her mouth drying in an instant. A hand grabbed the hair on the back of her head, wrenching it backwards. Chloe gasped for air as the cold metal of the chair pressed into the back of her neck, and another hand gripped her by the throat. Rachel's face appeared over her head, upside-down from Chloe's perspective. Instead of the light, peachy tones Chloe remembered all too well, her skin was more of a grey complexion, even looking a pale green pallor in places. Almost like she was...

"Take it easy, Rachel. No need to scare our- guest- any more than we need to. Now, on to the pressing matter." The hands on her hair and throat were released, throwing Chloe's head forward as the resistance to her efforts disappeared. Coughing as she got her breath back, she glanced up, noticing Jefferson had assumed the classic 'I'm waiting' pose that Chloe had become all-too-familiar with at Blackhell. "Don't stop on account of me." She muttered, a slight smirk on her face. "Very well. You figured killing me would solve all your petty little problems, yes? That one less, _artiste_ , on the face of the Earth would be a good thing, right?"

Chloe stayed silent, instead giving a shallow nod. She could already feel a knot in her chest building up, a voice inside screaming that something was horribly wrong.

"Wrong. Plus, you've the blood of two on your hands." His voice, but from Rachel's mouth. She strolled past Chloe once again, stroking a hand along her face. It felt cold, texture like plastic. Like death. "But seriously, an A for effort would be in order." Rachel's voice returned. "You really thought your troubles would be over, that stitching these timelines back into one would really save your souls?" Chloe paled, as a sickening feeling built on top of her nerves.

"S-Souls... What do you-" Jefferson leaned in close to her again. "Oh, how naive. Surely, you haven't forgotten your accomplices. Max may well have done this, but she's still pretty innocent. And Victoria..." his sentence was cut off by Chloe throwing herself forward, slamming her head into the bridge of his nose- what was left of it- and grinning maniacally as he recoiled. Her joy was cut short by a hand gripping her by the throat once again, tighter than before. Chloe struggled as her sight darkened. The hand around her neck felt warmer, and warmer, and warmer, until Chloe was certain it was on fire. A smell rose up, like burning flesh, all the while her skin felt like someone had poured petrol down her and set her alight. Despite the pain, Chloe smiled- well, grimaced, as it occurred to her that this must be what self-immolation would've felt like.

"Enough, Rachel!" All at once, the heat was released, and Chloe took a few deep, wheezing breaths as she tried to stop herself retching from the stench. The figure of Rachel emerged from behind her. Chloe could barely believe what she was seeing: Up to her left wrist, everything was normal- well, the 'extra from Night of the Living Dead' normal that had become prevalent here- but beyond there, and down to the fingertips of her hand, everything was aflame; her eyes, too, glowed like windows in front of a raging furnace. All at once, she clenched her fist, and the fire extinguished as though an invisible bucket of water had doused it in an instant. Her hand now took a charred form, like a log on a burnt-out fire. The glow in her eyes receded, replaced instead by a look of fury only Chloe could decipher.

Jefferson stood upright again, straightening his bloodstained tie. "Well, there's no amount of violence that can keep you safe from us. Not even time itself can protect you from what awaits. You'll see, though, you'll soon know how much better the fate I had in mind for you all was compared to what they will." "W-what?" Chloe's words fell over each other The lights cut out, plunging the room into darkness for a few seconds. They came back on, dimmer than before. Rachel and Jefferson stood facing Chloe, holding hands. Around them, and all around as far as Chloe could see, shadows. Figures. None distinct, no faces. Just shadows of figures, filling the room until they merged into the dark edges of the room.

"You see, Chloe, I am but a mere cog in a machine, larger than anything you can possibly imagine."

_"You can run, but you can't hide."_ The figures chanted together, every monotone voice in perfect sync.

"You can try and run, but you'll never be safe. You'll always have an eye over your back." Jefferson continued, as the floor begun to fill up with liquid. The figures blurred, moving closer.

_"You can run, but you can't hide."_ The chant grew louder. The liquid begun to cover Chloe's toes, creeping up until it had overrun her feet, not stopping. "We always win, Chloe." Rachel's voice echoed through her ears, as the lukewarm liquid reached her knees and the base of the. It was a crimson colour, and only now Chloe clicked as to its rusty smell. Still, the room filled, seconds later the blood was up to her chest. Chloe wrenched at her arms and legs, frantically trying to free herself as her shoulders slipped below.

_"You can run, but you can't hide."_ The chant was at a shout as the murky red-blackness flooded her ears and enveloped her mouth, quickly closing over her eyes and head. She clamped her mouth shut, trying desperately to hold her breath. The seconds passed, each an unbearable eternity, until her burning lungs finally gave in, the air bursting from her mouth and her reflex action taking in a gulp, inundating her lungs with blood. Another gulp, her reddened vision blackening and dimming around the edges, before she blacked out altogether, the remaining air bubbling out of her lungs, her pulse slowing to a halt as the life drained out of her.

* * *

 

_Sacramento, CA_

Chloe sprung awake in her bed, coughing and hyperventilating in a cold sweat. Her eyes flitted around the room as her heaving chest slowed down, and her hammering heart calmed down. It was still dark. The orange glow was still bleeding in through the makeshift curtains that had been put up in the living-room-cum-bedroom. The hubub and emergency sirens outside still sounded all the same.

"Having bad dreams, are we?"

The voice sounded like Rachel's to Chloe's still-not-quite-awake ears. She lunged at it, grabbing the figure and throwing it to the ground. "Don't you fucking dare touch her." Chloe hissed.

"What the fuck, Chloe? Seriously, I ask you if you're having bad dreams and you treat me like this. Bitch." Chloe's eyes focused in properly on the figure she was pinning to the floor, with a hand around her throat. Instead of the blonde, flowing hair of her former girlfriend turned tormentor and backstabber, there was the short, pixie-cut hairstyle of Victoria. A pair of green eyes pierced into hers, equal parts scared and irritated. Chloe sat back, taking her hand back.

"Holy shit. Fuck, I'm sorry, Vic, but what the fuck are you doing awake at... what fucking time is it, anyway?" Victoria shrugged. "About three in the morning."

"Exactly! What the fuck are you doing awake?" She exclaimed, keeping her voice down as much as possible. Victoria pursed her lips, sitting up. "I fall back to my first question: you had a nightmare, right?" Chloe was surprised a little. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Victoria have her a wry smile as she sat back up. The sort that said everything Chloe needed to know without a word being said. "Why else do you think I'm awake at three in the morning? Wanna discuss it?" Chloe sat for a moment, as the events that had panned out what felt like moments earlier replayed, from the voices- their tones and pitches ingrained onto her mind like the ink on her arms- to the iron smell, to the sensation as the blood poured into her lungs.

"Uh... no, I'm good for now, thanks for the offer though. One other thing though." Victoria raised an eyebrow, head supported by her palms, elbows resting on the insides of her knees. 

"Hm?"

Chloe sighed a little and looked away before continuing. "How come you're suddenly being all nice? Yesterday, you would probably have given anything to get away from the pair of us and back to someplace else. Now, you're acting like we've been friends for years. Why?"

Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and sighing. Chloe noticed a small damp patch underneath her eyes, and for a moment she thought she heard a brief sniffle from her.

"Why? Huh, it's a question I've been asking myself for years. Why should I behave like a fucking tyrant? Why should I fuck with others to the point that everyone thinks I'm some kind of soulless bitch?" Another deep breath. "That's not who I'd ever wanted to be. It seems the world had a better idea. Even down to my  _fucking_ parents, everyone seemed to want a piece of me. Everyone has always been watching me, waiting for the moment I slip up so they can fuck me over. You two... you've never done that. For the first time, I actually feel like I don't have to be defensive. Besides, you're about all of the world I knew that's left right now."

Chloe sat in silence for a moment, taking in what Victoria had just said.  _Wait, what? She's only ever been Queen Bitch because she's..._ "So, insecurity is what's driven you all these years?" Chloe asked, her face still a picture of surprise. Victoria nodded.

"To put it simply, yeah, I guess." 

A slight smile appeared on Chloe's face. "Welcome to the club. I still can't quite figure out why you've decided to stay with us two, though. I mean, really, we haven't exactly been going easy on you- sorry about that, by the way- and you  _kinda_ have had a chance or two to slip away. So why stay?" Victoria's face became somewhat darker.

"While you were both asleep, I got online and looked up the lists."

"Lists?"

"The Bay Lists," Victoria elaborated, "I just couldn't stand not knowing any longer. You two are registered alive and well, I'm still logged m-missing, but, but..." she begun to break down. Chloe sat next to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. 

"But what?"

"N-n-nathan..."

Chloe looked at the floor, finding her own emotions rising. "Shit, I'm sorry. Really... I am. Dead?"

Victoria shook her head slightly. "I-I don't know... They said that... that the ward hadn't been evacuated in time and that the hospital..." Victoria pulled out a phone-  _wait, my phone!_\- with a photo up on-screen. The Med Centre, what was left of it. The shot had been taken from above, probably by one of the dozens of rescue helicopters that were flying almost non-stop around the area. The hospital itself looked like someone had dropped a bomb on it: the reception area's roof had totally caved in and was smouldering, probably after burning through the night; most of the patient rooms were missing roofs or were also collapsed; then there was the end of the hospital where the psychiatric centre had been. It made the rest of the hospital look operable by comparison, as at least one end of the centre seemed to have collapsed into the basement. The corridors looked a mess even from two hundred feet up, and the part of the ward where Nathan had been... completely obscured by smoke and flame, likely owing to the gas mains coming in toward that end of the hospital.

"They're... expecting the worst." Victoria tossed the phone onto the bed. "So now, you two are about the closest thing to friends that I have left. Not cronies, cohorts. friends." Victoria hugged Chloe, which took her aback yet again. She stood up and stretched. 

"I'm gonna take myself off for a run, anyway. Need to try and keep myself in shape. And if you need me to leave you be when Max wakes up, so you can talk to her, then that's fine."

Chloe nodded. "Thanks, Vic. I'm... Okay to just call you Vic, right?"

Victoria smiled. "Sure." With that, she opened the door and slipped out of the apartment, into the night. Chloe flopped back onto the bed, barely realising until now just how fast her heart was beating again.

_The fuck is wrong with me? I've already got the only person I've ever wanted, and yet Vic seems to be trying for one or both of us two._ _And that fucking dream... 'WE always win'?_ She sat back up, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling down as much as she could remember, while it was still at the forefront of her mind and before she wandered back onto the subject of Vic. After that, she lay back, closed her eyes, and tried to settle back into sleep, to no avail.

 

_8.35 am_

Max had woken up about half an hour ago, and was busy getting breakfast when Chloe woke back up from her barely-effective nap and walked in. Max gave her a look that told Chloe all she needed to know about the next thing she'd say.

"Well, someone needs an alarm clock."

Chloe returned with one of her typical blunt stares as she sat down opposite Max. "Don't need one when I have dreams that wake me up at three in the morning." Max put her cup down, leaning in closer. "What... what kind of dreams?" Chloe pulled out the pad where she'd written down everything, passing it to Max.

"There. That's about the long and short of it." She explained, as Max began reading, holding the pad in one hand and emptying her coffee into her with the other. She got down as far as  _'we' will always win_ before she virtually choked on her coffee. She looked over the cup at Chloe.

"We? You sure that they said 'we'?" Chloe nodded.

"Positive. Just as I am about the fact they fucking drowned me in blood."

Max dropped the pad onto the table, resting her cup next to it. A sullen, almost scared expression came over her face. "I thought we were free of this. I thought we'd fucking beaten him, that we'd never have to run a day again." Chloe took hold of her hands across the table. "I'd never let them get to us. You know that." Max's eyes locked with Chloe's again.

"I know. But, if,  _if_ there is a bigger circle out there, some kind of organisation that Jefferson was actually  _a part of_ , then how the fuck are we going to be able to beat them? We're three- two- women against fucking-God-knows how many of them.And I don't like those odds."

Chloe shrugged. "Then... let's hope it was my mind fucking with me." With that, she picked up the remote lying on the table, and switched on the small, dated TV that was in the room. The morning news was on.

"...Has still been no sightings of Kei Burkeley, who was last seen in Sunriver Park late on Friday afternoon. Sacramento County Sheriff's Office are appealing for anyone with information that could help locate her to come forward-" Chloe knocked the TV onto mute, staring at the picture for a moment. The picture that was present of the missing girl, Kei, looked almost like Rachel. Different complexion, slightly different features, but otherwise... The thoughts came flooding into her head. The timeline where she'd have quite happily killed and died for Rachel. The months spent tortured, waiting for some semblance of an idea as to where she was. All that hope held out for nothing. The betrayals. The nightmares. The tears built up inside her like water in a blocked hosepipe, ready to explode out as her world caved in on her.

"Chloe!" Max shut the TV off altogether, wrapping her arms around Chloe as her emotions tore her apart. Victoria stopped in her tracks as the wailing. Max shot her a look. "Out." Victoria held up her hands and backed away from the door. "Okay, Max. I'll be in here." Max turned her attention back to the sobbing wreck that was her girlfriend.

"Chloe, look at me, it's alright. It wasn't Rachel, okay?"

"I-I-I know, Max....It's just...she...looks...so...much..." Max stroked a hand down her face and neck.

"I know, Chloe. I know. Just relax. It's alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this has been worth the wait. My life has been a little hectic up until recently and I've no guarantees that it'll change at all in future.
> 
> However, the arc begins. I'm not going to make it a case of "Jefferson but on a bigger scale", however, as that'd be lazy plotting in my eyes. No, there will be _SOME_ element of that and people trafficking mixed in somewhere, BUT it won't be the biggest revelation to come out.
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying the story, and as a heads-up this and _The Call_ will not be my last LiS stories: I've at least two more ideas beyond them; one being a continuation of _The Call_ , the other? Well, you'll see it as and when I get round to writing it, which won't be until after I finish my current projects. (Likely 2019 at the rate I write)


	5. Loose Ends

_15th Precinct, Sacramento._

_4th November, 2013_  
_2.01 pm_

Romero knew before he picked up the handset that the call was one he should dread.

"Captain, got a caller on the line. Claims they have a lead on the most recent disappearance, they'll only speak to you." Romero nodded in the direction of his assistant, who promptly left his office, before picking up the phone. He hesitated for a couple of moments, before hitting the key on the base to put the call through.

"Wondered when you'd next be in touch. What is it this time?"

  
_"Our usual meeting place. One hour. Make sure you're there."_ Before he had a chance to reply, the line cut off. That was the usual tone of these conversations, if they could be called that. An all-too-familiar block of anxiety took up his chest as he made his way through the main space of the station, barging past the previous night's bookings. Some sober, some still drunk beyond sense, all obnoxious. As he reached the door, the unfortunate Lieutenant who had been dumped the task of maintaining some sort of order in the absence of the Chief called out to him.

"Jack, could you gimme a hand here?" Romero turned and shook his head. "Sorry, Jackson, no can do. Got a lead to follow up on the Burkeley case." With that, he turned and pushed through the swing-door before he could be challenged further. He felt as though he was as much a villain as the bookings in the room for doing it, but as far as he saw it, he had no choice.

Unknown to his colleagues, aspirants, admirers, Detective Captain Jack Romero had a dark side. On the surface, he was a hero: three times decorated for bravery, credited with dismantling numerous gangs, the list went on as far as anyone could think. The surface was a charade, however- a clever disguise to ensure nobody became the wiser about his 'alter ego': Jack Romero, the hero cop; was also Jack Romero, 'The Policeman'. By day, he solved crimes across the District. By night, he was complicit in some of the worst atrocities a single group had been known to conduct in Sacramento. He was the defence _they_ had against the arm of the law. He was effectively the troubleshooter, the man who could make any case, any witness to the horrors committed, simply disappear. Like with that poor fucking girl recently, who just happened to come around the wrong corner of the wrong street at the wrong time.

And today, 'The Policeman' had been summoned by his other boss. Jack had long since forgotten how and why he'd ever gotten involved in this. Until recently, he'd had no real choice- as he saw it- to get out cleanly. "Go along with what you're told, or all your laundry goes out to hang, you with it." That was how the prick who gave him his orders had worded it some years ago. Never to be beaten, Jack had figured something out. Sat in a safe deposit box in the Financial District was his 'get-out pack'. Every piece of evidence, every dirty dealing of the Co-Op, as they referred to themselves (a fucking dull name, Jack had thought), had ever been involved in. As he saw it, dropping that evidence on the FBI's desk would solve all his problems: The Co-Op would be obliterated by Federal agents, and he would once again be decorated, idolised as the deep-cover cop who managed to bring down the most nefarious organisation Sacramento had ever seen. It was safer for his wife, too: sure, he could drop off the radar if he needed to, but he knew that they knew where he lived. They'd had an enforcer come pay him a visit to 'encourage' him once. If they were prepared to do that, to a cop of all people, then he knew he'd be wise to assume they had no limit to what they could or would do. He still pondered this point as he drove out of the crowded streets, toward the old rail yard on the river. It still made no damned sense why a businessman such as Botha would want a fucking meet-up in the middle of nowhere.

Naturally, meeting a officer- an on-duty officer, at that- in his office was privy to corruption claims. However, being here always gave him the creeps. It always seemed too convenient, like the perfect place to dispose of persons undesired by someone such as Botha or his Russian lapdog. That guy shouted two things at Jack on a glance alone, those being "Commie", and "Brutal S.O.B.". He gave Jack the chills almost as much as Botha- almost, not quite. Jack knew for a fact that he had maybe a couple of pieces of a jigsaw that could span half the West Coast and the back pockets of half the Senate, but he felt that little bit safer in the knowledge that he could take out just one small part of the organisation.

He knew that it would likely bring the rest of it down on top of him like a house, but by then he'd have figured out a plan as to how to escape that. That was the general idea, anyway.

He ran his mind over what he'd been able to discover about the key players during his diggings: Botha's records were sketchy at best prior to his entry to America, but from what Jack had found he had been involved in some pretty shady shit there as part of their Secret Police. Then, there was the Russian. If finding dirt on Botha had been hard, this asshole was an even ghostlier type. Jack couldn't even find a full D.O.B for this fucker, only a year and a possible name, Alexei Beretzky. As for who and what he'd been back in good old Commieland, that was more of a mystery. A mystery covered in black ink and Russian federal markings at that, which gave Jack even more doubt as to whether the name he had on file was really who this guy was. However, Jack was far from through with his search. Better yet, he was pretty certain that Botha was oblivious as to his 'extra-curricular' searching. A shudder passed through him as he remembered the last time that phrase had been used. The last cop who had worked for Botha, the one Jack replaced, had been caught doing some 'extra-curricular' protection rackets. Jack's first job as the Co-Op's new kid was to put the guy down. Little did he realise that it was the most savourable of the jobs he would be given over the coming years. 

 _"Good cop" my ass_ , he thought to himself with a grimace as the structures coating the area gave way to a chain-link fence, reminding him just how close he was to finding out what deeds he would be called upon to perform. He crossed over into the derelict yard and parked up before stepping out, hearing his footsteps echoing around the area. A few birds fled the quiet overpass nearby, as though they foresensed the danger ahead. This whole place gave him the creeps on a level that nothing else could match. Something about this place felt like it had seen a thousand bodybags. He steadied himself, and walked onward toward the heart of the yard, an old maintenance shop, once the heart of the train yard. He strode as confidently as he could, all the while knowing how heavily his apprehension would show on the outside. It always did, and Botha loved nothing more than making him squirm be commenting on it. _'What you so jumpy for, cop?'_ The prick would remark, _'anyone would think you have a wire on you.'_ The thought of doing just that had crossed his mind more than once, until Botha had insisted on having him swept before every meeting. As he passed over the threshold into the dilapidated shop, he pondered again what the job at hand was going to be this time around. The place stank as always, a little from damp due to years of neglect, and a little more due to the history of this place, having had broken engines pissing diesel and lubricant everywhere. The two scents combined to make one hell of an unnerving scent, faint though it was.

The two figures stood a little ways inside the confines. Far enough away, Jack figured, that if he were to run he would be gunned down. As always, the Russian stood to his left as he approached. Between the two there was a small duffel bag, no more than a couple of feet across. Jack had never really found out much about Botha's personal life, but for someone who was only meant to be around sixty, he looked more like eighty. Hair on top that was going a whitish colour from the original light blonde that Jack had seen on the older photos of him, back before he moved to L.A. He had a couple of small marks on his face, likely old scars. Jack only noticed them after a couple of meetings with him. The Russian looked a lot worse for wear, despite being at least twenty years younger- assuming of course that the year Jack had was right- with a lot of wear and tear visible on his face, dominated by a single scar across one cheek. It started about half an inch back from the right corner of his mouth and extended all the way back past his ear. The scar itself was ragged, which Jack had surmised was because it wasn't something clean that had done it. The guy was brutal in his methods, more so than he'd ever seen before. No way somebody picked up methods like that from anywhere civilised. His manner of behaviour, his dress sense (or as Jack surmised, a lack of one) and his obedience definitely put him something military. So, that left the question of where one would go about getting a scar like that. Kosovo? Afghanistan? Chechnya? Jack didn't know where to start. Probably all of the above.

It was definitely odd for it to be around sixty degrees at this time of year. Even so, for the time of year, Botha's style of dress was somewhat unusual, as he was wearing a heavy winter jacket, the sort he'd expect to see being worn someplace colder. South African emigrant or not. Keeping the apprehension as far below the surface as he could, and putting on his best, if slightly impatient-looking, expression, he greeted the pair.

"So, what was so urgent that you had to drag my ass out here for? I gotta keep up the 'Lawman' face, you know." Instead of a chuckle of sly (and probably condescending) remark in reply, he was met with silence. 

"Yes, that Lawman face is definitely important, you know." Botha begun. "A man who's willing to put his life on the line, day after day, protecting and serving? Or, whatever you Americans brand stamping the place into your own shape as. Yes, it's something you're good at." Jack was sweating bullets. Not because Botha had said anything particularly worrying, let alone anything to imply his investigating being detected- yet- but something about his demeanour was unnerving. That, and he already disliked the direction this conversation was heading in.

 "Tell me, what does a cop get for finding things out. A promotion, perhaps?" Botha let the question hang in the air for a moment, before his previously wry expression dropped to the flat look of annoyance Jack had seen before. "Come on, don't pretend you don't know what I'm on about." The Russian kneeled down, opening the duffel bag and handing Botha a steel box. He turned it to Jack, shaking it.

"Look familiar?" The colour drained from Jack's cheeks as a wave of nausea passed through him.

"Surely, you didn't think you'd get away with this."

Jack started stepping backward, as surreptitiously as possible. The Russian drew a handgun. Jack froze in his tracks.

"And of course, you didn't think that this,  _extra-curricular_ work would come without repercussions. Some little reminder of " Botha remarked, putting extra emphasis on the word. 

"Don't...don't touch my wife...please..." Jack had recovered enough from the initial shock of being discovered to realise what was at stake. Botha smiled, pulling out what looked like a sandwich bag from the pocket of the jacket and tossed it underarm, landing it at Jack's feet. A hand, severed just behind the wrist.

"Ah, we might've been acting a little in advance, then." Jack dropped to his knees, turning the hand over in the bag. No. Not just any hand. That ring, he bought her it all that time ago, its gem still sparkling despite the crimson spattering it; that burn, on the index finger, she'd only just done that this morning. The bag tumbled from his hands as he broke down. 

"You bastards!", he exclaimed at them through his sobs, everything else becoming incoherent. Botha pulled another item out of his pocket. Jack's eyes were flooded with tears of sorrow and rage, but he didn't need clear vision to know that shape. 

"As much as I'd love to leave you with this, I know I can't. What have you to lose, now?" A click, as the hammer locked back.

"Goodbye, Captain Romero." A dull noise came from the weapon, like a cough. Jack felt a dull thud strike his neck, and reached a hand up, finding it refused to comply. He slumped onto the ground on his side, staring at the two figures as his eyesight became increasingly dark, fading altogether.

* * *

 Botha re-pocketed the dart gun as the last signs of consciousness faded from Romero's body. He turned up his nose, grimacing somewhat.

"Now what, boss?" Botha turned to his companion.

"Well, Aleks, we know he's got it hidden in one of those deposit boxes. There's only three places in town that use that model, so we know where to start looking." He dropped the box at his feet in disgust, its lid popping open to reveal it empty. "You see, cops are useful. But this,  _this_ fucking kinda thing," he growled, pointing at the body on the floor, "is why I can't help but hate the fuckers. We pay them what, three times their salary, and they still thank us by trying to crash our business down on our fucking heads every so often. Does it not occur to them that we always have a bigger fish than them in our pocket?"

Aleks smirked. "You haven't got the President in your pocket, have you?" Botha chuckled.

"No. But, that's a task for one day or another. Once we've built the empire a little more, got a few more people under our wing. For now, anyway." He gestured a hand at the corpse, Aleks complying and scooping it up, making the drugged officer look as though he weighed nothing.

"Now, let's get rid of this piece of shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus, we introduce the opposition. A nice, shady organisation. How original, I know. Short, but I couldn't really extend it any further.
> 
> Okay, so it's been a while since I wrote for this story. Frankly, it's become more of a background for me to work on as I really can't think of where I want to take it. As it is, I'm going to be starting work on one of two other projects I've got in my mind at the moment: one is the continuation to _The Call_ , the other... it's that 'super-uber-top-secret' story I teased about earlier in the year.   
> Ciao, for now.
> 
> (P.S: If anyone wants to give me advice for where to take the story from here, I'm all ears. I have an idea of an endpoint and some other events but nothing really besides that.)


End file.
